Crazy: Recovery
by Sparklin Kitty
Summary: Sequel to Crazy! Mistoffelees is now on the long road to recovery, but Victoria isn't at all sure how he'll react to her latest secret, and meanwhile, the Hidden Paw's trap is slowly falling together.   T for Tugger's possible naughtiness.
1. In Which Mist Whines More Than He Should

**YES. This sequel _actually _exists now. Aren't you proud of me? XD I'm looking forward to some crit, too.  
>And a shout-out to my beta,Magical - Marvel - Mr. Mistoffelees ! CURSE THOSE HYPHENS.<strong>

**Chapter One: In which Mistoffelees whines more than he should**

Victoria groaned as a loud whimper woke her; Mistoffelees was having yet _another _nightmare. _Every single night! _She thought angrily, before hastily checking herself, _No, no, you must be patient. He's traumatized. _The white queen moved over to face her mate and gently began to kiss him awake; waking the jumpy tom from a nightmare any other way could result in him electrocuting her or frying the blankets. Victoria had learned both the hard way.

Sometimes she wondered why she'd stayed his mate through all this time, if she was just a fool in hoping he did love her, truly. Though, as his whimpering faded and his eyelids slowly opened to reveal amber eyes, sparkling with the smile she could feel on his lips, Victoria was reminded why she would never be able to leave him. Through all of his trauma and problems, he had retained his quirks, his intelligence, the kitten-like fascination he had with everything...and all of it caused her to dote on him. He had her stuck.

"Was I having another nightmare?" Mistoffelees asked softly, pulling away and sitting up to look at her with mingled confusion and amusement showing plainly on his features. The white queen nodded.

"Yes, but how did you know? You can't ever remember them," she replied, moving over to climb into his lap and rest her head on his fluffy white chest. The tuxedo began to purr ever-so-quietly as she gently ran her fingers through his bib.

"Because you _never _kiss me awake when I'm not," he whined, pouting at her and crossing his arms, "I like it, you know. It's a very pleasant way to get up."

Victoria laughed, relieved that it was one of his good days. If she woke him on a bad day, he was in no way like the Mistoffelees she had grown up and fallen in love with. She snuggled closer to him and closed her eyes. He didn't speak, and when she turned her eyes to his face, the white queen noted that he was staring at a crack in the far wall as if it were of utmost importance. Victoria had long since realized that the tuxedo would often do such a thing, lost in some obscure thought.

"Mistoffelees," she began, watching as his glazed-over eyes blinked and he turned his gaze down to her slowly, "When was it you last ate? I haven't caught you any food recently, and I don't know if you've been feeding yourself." The tuxedo tended to forget to eat meals unless reminded; it was just another setback to face as he slowly returned to some form of normalcy. There were so many challenges that both he and Victoria had to face before he could heal properly, if he ever did...

"No, you caught me something to eat yesterday...because today is Tuesday, right?" he tilted his head questioningly as doubt filled his gaze; he rarely knew the date, so why should he now?

She sighed, annoyed and angered at the fact that he was so badly off he forgot to eat. What would happen to him when she became old and feeble? The white queen gently whacked the top of his head and tried not to yell as she spoke, "Mistoffelees, you _must _remember to eat! Today is Friday. It's been _four days _since you've eaten! How is that healthy?"

He flushed red and looked down, "I...I have so much to think about, I wasn't hungry right then, and you were busy...I just forget. I suppose it's not healthy...but it's not like I'm starving to death, Victoria. There's no need to panic."

Victoria nodded, swallowing her anger; it did no good to shame or to scold him. It never helped. She opened her mouth to speak, her tone surprisingly level and comforting, "Misto, love, we need to keep you well-fed. I don't want anything that we can prevent to happen to you."

He smiled, rolling his eyes surreptitiously, "I'm not a kitten, _dear," _ he purred, mimicking her use of pet names, "I know I act an awful lot like one sometimes, on my bad days, but try to treat me like an adult when I'm acting like one. I'm a big tom."

This time, it was Victoria's turn to blush and glance away, his remark leaving her feeling foolish and like a mother hen, "I'm sorry, Misto. I just worry; I know I shouldn't, but I do. It's part of being a queen," she paused, knowing the statement was only half-true.

He said he knew how he acted on bad days, but the tuxedo honestly had no idea how difficult he could be, what with his sudden fits of anger, or sometimes he reverted to an almost kitten-like state, with monosyllabic speech completing the picture. Or, on occasion, he wouldn't respond to any prodding, locked away in some thoughtful dreamland. And of course, there were the rare, horrible days when he would forget where he was entirely and who Victoria was.

"What time is it?" he asked softly, obviously well enough today that he would create conversation without prodding. Victoria smiled again, glad she would have at least one day where he could nearly care for himself. It meant less effort on her part and a chance to clean their house, which deteriorated to a grubby state every time he had several bad days in a row.

"It's about six in the morning," she answered, yawning, and glancing at a watch sitting on her nightstand, "I'm going to get you some food and then clean house. Don't leave until I send Munkustrap in to watch you, please. You're supposed to have a supervisor at all times, and no one else is going to adult-sit you at this hour." Ever since he'd cut himself, leaving three horrible scars on each arm, he'd been watched by someone close to him every minute of every day. Though, when he was more jumpy and paranoid than usual, that didn't always help if it wasn't Victoria or Alonzo.

"But I can't go back to sleep after I've had a nightmare without you cuddling me," he whined softly, pawing at her and pulling her closer, "I get scared, and when I'm scared I have episodes. Do you want me to have an episode? I don't think you do." He'd been flirtatiously nibbling on her eartip as he spoke, knowing it would erode away her willpower to nothing.

"Oh, all right, you manipulative tom, you," she muttered, lying back down on the bed and snuggling into his chest as his arms went around her. So much for Mistoffelees needing _her _to cuddle _him. _He was just going through a needy phase, she supposed, purring softly as he pressed his face into the hollow between her neck and shoulder.

"You smell good," he said thickly, opening one eye sleepily and looking at her. He was prone to odd and off-topic compliments, and that was no result of the trauma. Once, when the two of them had "married" each other when they were ten, (it hadn't worked out, as Victoria wouldn't eat canned fish) he had told her that she "had a nice nose" and "wasn't too funny looking". As he'd gotten older, the comments had gotten slightly more tactful, but only in increments.

"Well, I should hope so," she answered in response. He quieted, and soon after was once again asleep, snoring softly and tickling her ears with his hot breath. Victoria squirmed carefully out from under his arms and spent a few moments grooming herself in front of a bit of reflective glass that served as a mirror before leaving the den.

She breathed in the sweet morning air, a grin gracing her lips despite the cloudy and overcast sky. The sun hadn't quite come up yet, so few cats were about, most preferring to enjoy alone time with their mates at such an early hour or go on a stroll outside of the 'yard. But Victoria was not most cats, and her mateship was not the average one. Mistoffelees needed to eat, and she would find him food. Rodents and other small mammals and birds would be sleeping at the moment, making them easy to hunt down.

But first, she needed to collect Munkustrap and send him to her den. The white queen ambled slowly along, knowing her mate couldn't hurt himself if he was sleeping, and took her time in reaching the tabby's shared den with Demeter.

When she reached the couple's den, she knocked gently on it until she heard the noises of stirring Jellicles. Munkustrap opened the door, blearily looking down at Victoria and casting a pleading glance at Demeter. The black and gold queen nodded, smiling thinly; she wasn't quite all there herself, and understood he needed taking care of.

"Mistoffelees, mm?" he grunted, raising an eyebrow. Victoria nodded appreciatively, glad he was so very understanding. She gave the tabby a quick hug and waved to Demeter.

"I'm going out to hunt," she explained, "I feel like he's wasting away, so tell him I shouldn't be more than an hour or two." Munkustrap gave a quick nod and Demeter looked over to her and back to her well-stocked pantry – she took great pride in her cooking, though was nowhere near as good as Jenny.

"I can bring over a nice lunch for you two, and Munkus and I can stay and visit for a bit, can't we, dear?" Demeter crooned, snuggling into the bigger tom's chest. Victoria blushed at their display and looked at her feet, feeling as though she was invading their privacy.

"Yes," he agreed happily, "I'll tell Lees we're going to come visit for lunch. It should be fun; Deme and Lees can catch up." Demeter grinned; she'd fawned over the tuxedo as though he was her own kitten and hadn't spoken to him in ages. She was sure to want to coddle him.

"Well, then," Victoria began, "I'll need to get Lees his breakfast, so I'll be going. Thanks ever so much, Munkus! You have no idea how much I appreciate this." At that, she dashed off towards the hunting grounds, where Munkustrap was certain she would catch far too much for her mate to eat in one sitting, especially in the morning.

"She's a good mate to him," Demeter stated softly, "Almost like you were to me. He needs her, you know, to hold him together. 'Else he would fall apart at the seams on his bad days, until he didn't have any good ones left."

Munkustrap nodded seriously, knowing his mate's sudden insight was nothing but truth, and that Mistoffelees was lucky to have his entire family and group of caretakers that helped him retain this level of sanity. He was so close to recovery, but with their limited technology, there was no way to determine if he would continue to improve. Munkus shook these melancholy thoughts from his head with a chuckle, kissed Demeter, and strolled off to go visit with his youngest nephew.


	2. Victoria Tends to give you Indigestion

**A/N Hi, three people reading this! No, make that one and a half. No one ever reads the bold print at the top of a chapter. XD REVIEW**

**Chapter Two: Victoria tends to give you indigestion**

Munkustrap arrived at the door to Mistoffelees' and Victoria's den, looking down and fumbling around for the key kidden beneath a half-empty can of now-dry white paint. _Why _his eccentric nephew insisted on having a door that locked, and then on insisting the door be locked at all times and the key hidden, was beyond the Protector. He took great pride in his guard of their homes, and couldn't see why anyone would want more.

He sighed exasperatedly and unlocked the door, opening it quietly and stepping inside. Dust motes swirled around the small and orderly house, and it was slightly grubbier than Victoria's usual standards would allow. The old, chipped table had small crumbs from meals and a thin sheen of grease covering it; it needed washed, badly. A book was lying on the edge of a bowl that served as the sink. She'd be cleaning up today, certainly, and rushing to get it done before Deme stopped by with lunch.

The silver tabby chuckled to himself and turned towards the bedroom. Mistoffelees' sense of decoration shone through here: instead of a door, there was a colourful sheet with a pattern of triangles in blue, green, and purple. Rather odd and a bit gaudy, Munkustrap thought, but somewhat pretty and useful as a door substitute. He pushed it aside and sat down in a chair a respectful distance from his nephew's large, plush bed.

The bed was made of scraps of cloth sewn together and stuffed with feathers, which were peeking out through the gaps in the seams holding the scraps together. Atop it, underneath thick, patterned blankets, was the tuxedo, who was snoring loudly and nursing on his fingers. Munkustrap grinned; when Mistoffelees had spent nights at his house as a kitten, the snoring and squelching noises from sucking on his fingers had kept the silver tabby awake every time. How Victoria put up with it, he would never know.

Mistoffelees twitched in his sleep and rolled over, loosing a thunderous snore, before opening his eyes slowly. He stretched leisurely, yawning, and began to climb out of bed. The tom looked around, searching quite obviously for Victoria. His gaze landed instead on the silver tabby, who smiled and leaned back in his chair. Mistoffelees started, rubbing his eyes.

"Uncle Munkus?" He paused to wrap the bankets around himself like a cloak, "..Oh, yeah...Victoria said somethingabout you stopping by to watch me?" The tom shuffled over to a chair across from Munkustrap's, still yawning. He's never liked mornings, his uncle recalled, thinking of the whining and grumbling he'd put up with when waking the tuxedo up to send him back to his foster home with Jenny.

"Yes, you know what Jelly said," Munkustrap answered, folding his arms arcross his chest, "By the way, did you know you still suck on your fingers and snore? And that you've gotten louder?" The silver tom chuckled; judging by his reaction, he hadn't. Mistoffelees gave a start and looked at his paws, frowning.

"I thought I'd quit, seening as Victoria stopped waking me up every five minutes so she could tell me I needed to be quiet," he muttered, wiping his paw off on the blanket, "Not that I've gotten louder. I'll have to ask how she puts up with it."

Munkustrap nodded his agreement and grinned, "You sound well, though. That's good. You're definitely getting better." The tabby situated himself better in the chair and stretched his legs out. Mistoffelees didn't reply, and when Munkustrap looke dup to see what was wrong, he found that his nephew had dozed off in his chair. "Lees," the silver tabby said softly, "Lees, you need to get up."

"What?" the tuxedo mumbled petulantly, opening his eyes again and pulling the blankets up to his chin, "I was sleeping. You _know _I hate it when you wake me up, Munustrap. Honestly."

"When did you go to bed last night, Lees?" He asked, standing up and moving over towards his nephew concernedly, wondering if perhaps he had a head cold.

"Uh, fairly early," the tuxedo replied grumpily, standing up and tossing his blankets on the bed in a huff, "So I'll be just fine in a minute. Let me get myself some cold water and splash my face with it. I just hate mornings, is all."

Munkustrap nodded and headed back out into the main room, which was actually the only other room in the den, and flopped down on an old beanbag chair that Victoria had mended. All of the homes in the junkyard we made of mended, mismatched and used items that had been salvaged from the dump. Though, the couple really had been lucky in finding such posh items to suit Mistoffelees' taste for large and fluffy objects.

A few moments later, Mistoffelees returned, toting a damp rag in paw and looking considerably more alert than earlier. He unceremoniously dropped the rag into the bowl and picked up the book lying on its edge.\

Munkustrap glanced up at the soft noises such bustling about generated and sighed, "Why don't you just put the rag out on a line to dry? I know it's not really common, but Jenny does it when she washes the costumes for the ball, and it would mean less work for Victoria." Mistoffelees pondered that for a moment and nodded his thanks before rummaging around in the house for a bit of string to serve as a line.

"Well," he said when this venture proved unsuccessful, "I'll just wring it out and put it back where I found it, then. That's not really a habit for me, you know, because I'm still as unorganized as you ever saw me."

Munkustrap chuckled and nodded his agreement; as his nephew had aged and grown out of kittenhood, entering adolescence, he'd spent more and more time at the silver tabby's den, and frequently left the little area set up for him in shambles. Luckily, the mess only consisted of misplaced objects, rather than discarded foodstuffs, unlike Munkustrap's brother and, more often than not, roommate, Tugger.

Mistoffelees wrung out the rag, somehow managing to balance the book while doing so, and disappeared into his room for a short while. He soon returned and flopped down onto a small mound of sofa and chair cushions, then opened the book and began to read.

Munkustrap yawned, his head nodding on his shoulders. Victoria _had _woken him up early, hadn't she? Perhaps a quick nap wouldn't hurt; Mistoffelees certainly wouldn't be going anywhere unless someone yanked the nook away from him or he finished it. He was an extremely avid reader.

"Hey, Munkus?" The silver tabby started and opened eyes he hadn't realized were closed. Mistoffelees was hovering over him, "Victoria's coming - I saw her out the window - and I wanted to wake you up before she got home so she wouldn't skin you alive for falling asleep."

"Oh, thanks, Lees," he mumbled, standing, "Though, I really shouldn't have fallen asleep. Cat, that's embarrassing."

The tuxedo nodded brightly, "Of course, Munkus. It is my den after all, and that means I really should be responsible for you in here, but..stuff came up and that's that." He smiled cheerily and shrugged; the past was the past to him, and nearly all the jibes and teasing about his "little problem" was done by himself. Most of the kittens thought that the couple was hiding a wildly hyperactive child inside te den due to Tugger calling the "little problem" such.

Just then, the door opened and Victoria stepped into the room, laden with mmore mice than the three of them could eat even after a hard day of work. She smiled, "Hi, Misto, Munkus. Would you two mind helping me prepare these? I caught enough to feed you all."

"More like enought to feed the tribe..." Mistoffelees muttered rebelliously, shooting a glance at Victoria that she shrigged off, pushing a pile of mice towards her mate for preparation. He snorted and began slicing the choice bits off with a claw and sprinkling some of the hard-to-come-by salt over the top and adding a pinch of rosemary. He loved rosemary, though his uncle hated it and wouldn't come near him for ages, complaining about the smell lingering on his fur.

Victoria took note of the preparations, "Misto, you know that those will tase awful with that spive unless you cook them, right?" She came over with the bowl - now full of water - and made as if to wash the spices off the meat.

He scoffed and pushed the bowl away, roasting them quickly with a sharp jolt of electricity. Victoria blinked at the smell, preferring her meat raw and unseasoned, as did Munkustrap, and had no idea why her mate enjoyed meat with all the flavour cooked right out of it. It was crazy. But there again, so was he; it fit somehow, she supposed. Mistoffelees took half of the cookoed mice, dragged the beanbag chair over to the table and began to eat.

Munkustrap also took half of his share and sat on the opposite side of the table, in one of the mismatched kitchen chairs rather than the softer ones Mistoffelees obviousl had no qualms over dragging about for his comfort.

Victoria joined them soon after and they began eating in a comfortable silence, enjoying the companionship far more than the food, excepting for perhaps Mistoffelees, who was focused intently on eating as much as he could. Maybe, Munkustrap thought, this was to please Victoria, or simly to fill his empty and loudly rumbling belly. Who knew with him.

A few moments later, Mistoffelees broke the silence with a loud and contented purr, informing them that he was full and they could eat what he hadn't. He's not cleared hisw plate but he certainly looked more substantial, at least. Munkustrap was quite sure Victoria would let him leave the table now, but she grabbed the cooling shunks of mouse remaining on the cooking area (little more than a plank of wood) and plopped them down in front of the tuxedo, who shot her a dark look but began eating again, more slowly and without relish.

She smirked triumphantly and sat back down, saying, "Munkustrap, how are you, Demeter and Jemima?" He looked up and smiled in response, casting a conciliatory glance in his nephew's direction before speaking.

"I'm pretty well off, Victoria, thank you. Demeter's well. We're thinking about kittens, actually, since she's not getting any younger. Jemima's going to become a queen this year. I think eith Tumble or Pounce is bringine her into her queen-hood, but I can never tell the two of them apart. They'd just better treat her properly, if you catch my drift. Not like Macavity did with my Deme..."

Mistoffelees sighed; the mice before him were all gone, showing themselves hin his slightly distended stomach. He shifted about uncomfortably for a moment, "I'm glad your family's well, Uncle Munkus, but I think I'm going to go sleep off the indigestion my _dear _wife gave me. She tends to do things like this, though, so...I should've expected it." He groaned and made his way back towards the bedroom, disappearing behind the sheet.

Victoria and Munkustrap waited the few short moments it took until snores started up to continue, Munkustrap chuckling softly at the tom's behavior. Oh, how much fun demter would have scolding him for manners and giving him indigestion as well.

"Anyway," Victoria began, "I din't realize Jemima was set to become a queen already. I keep forgetting that I'm only two years older than her, and Misto only four. How time flies, eh? And when Misto's slept off his indigestion he really will be exited to have some cousins, be they much younger than him. Hoperfully Demeter can still have them."

Munkustrap nodded his agreement, "Yes-" he was cut off by an obnoxious snore from the bedroom, "Little Jemmy is nearly a queen...I can't really believe it myself, actually. And, yes, if we do decide on having kits, we'll ask Jenny for advice before trying to actually have them."

"Yes, well..." the conversation died off as Victoria searched for something to say. Munkustrap stood, excused himself, fromised to be back with Demeter and lunch, then left. Victoria ran a finger along the tabletom and gasped at its greasines; she'd let family _eat _on _that?_ She was no housewife, but that was revolting.


	3. Macavity's Spies

**A/N:  
>SeanRose: Don't worry; I figured something like that would freak people out, and several of my relatives gave me some ideas that are way better than that. ;) While I'm sure he's functioning properly in that respect, I just don't think he has the mental maturity most of the time to be capable of it. Thank you so, so, <em>so <em>much for your awesome feedback. I love it when people put their opinions into the reviews!**

**Chapter Three: Macavity's Spies**

While Mistoffelees was sleeping off his indigestion, and the Jellicles were bustling about with various domestic tasks, there was a rush of activity in a broken down warehouse.

A black feline shadow slipped into an open door and disappeared behind it. It walked slowly towards a heavy door located in the back of a long hall. The door opened of its own accord, and the cat stepped inside. The room was warm amd furnished with a large oak desk, and seated behind it was and enormous red-furred tomcat.

"Well?" The cat snapped, banging his paw against the desk. The black cat - a queen - looked up hurreidly.

"Well," she began hastily, swallowing nervously, "Your target, the runt of your last mate's litter, the little black and white tom, I watched him just like you said. He leaves the house sometimes, but he's..._weird _about it. He'll just go out there and sit and stare at the sky, then talk to the big fluffy one, amble around, then go back inside, usually. If you ask me, he seems a little _touched, _but you're not asking me, boss..."

"On with the report!" The tom glared at her, "I want information, not gibberish or rambling! Keep it detailed, concise, and without your two cents on the matter! Am I clear?

"Yes, sir," she nodded sharply, "When I looked inside the house, I noticed he's got the prettiest mate, caretaker, whatever you ever did see, sir, and that you might like her yourself, and that he never really talks to her unles she starts the conversation of he wants to snuggle and maybe kiss on her though they never do anything more than that. They ain't go no kittens eigher, boss. Don't think he functions properly, if ya catch my drift, boss."

Macavity nodded and waved for her to continue, "More of his personal habits. I don't care about his love life, though if that queen really is that lovely..hm...my plan could be changed...it was meant to be flexible, after all...Why am I not hearing a report, queen?"

The henchcat stiffened, "Uh, personal habits...person- Oh, right! He has episodes! Really weird ones, too, boss. They ain't seizures of nothing like that, neither. Some days, he'll just stare at his pretty little queeny, and once he through a book, but not at her, just at the wall, though for some reason he was downright furious. Oh! And he started getting worse for a bit after taht. He had more nightmares than usual - oh, yup, he has lots of those - and made himself sick with worry over something. Throwing up all over their nice little den. Yuck! And, then, once day, I couldn't find him from my little window, and neither could Queeny, but then she knelt down in this corner, and I thought to myself, 'Rosie, she's got something in that corner, there, and I bet it's Weirdy' That's what I call him, see, 'cause he's weird.

"Consise!" Snapped macavity, glaring down at her, "What was he _doing _in the corner, you useless furball!"

"Right!" She nodded hastily, "Weirdy was in the corner, rubbing at these nasty little - no, not little, really big - scars on his arm. They were so gross, boss, that he better be glad the fur grew back over them, cause I almost puked on his window at it was. But _anywaym _Weirdy was all curled up in a ball, and shakin' and looked to be about in tears. He's completely bonkers, boss."

"But he doesn't have these episodes often, right?" Macavity queried, raising a brow. The queen shook her head and he continued, "Good. My plan will work perfectly, then, if he's not been through therapy and gotten himself glued together again. I need my youngest damaged for this to work.:

"Damaged goods, boss? Like that?"

"Yes, you ninny. Now go collect my officers. I want to hold a meeting with them," Macavity ordered. The queen dashed off to go collect the various toms and queens, flinching as the door slammed shut behind her. The red tom stood and entered a large room adjacent to his office, where there was a long table with chairs alongside it. He took the head seat and waited. Slowly, the officers filed in, all toms excepting for one queen. There was Crowsfoot, the head of weapondry, Nigel, head of torture, Minaka, head of medicine, Tallone, head of finance and business, and Liana, the only queen and head of stealth and intelligence. Laura was under her jurisdiction. Macavity slammed his paw down on the table as they sat to indicate silence. The cats stared at him, waiting for the speech on their latest mission.

"Cats," he began sharply, "I have another new plan to destroy the Jellicles." The red tom ignored the soft sighs and furtive glances being shot around the room and continued, "It involves my youngest son, Mistoffelees. As you know, he had a nervous breakdown a few months ago."

There was a sucession of nods. Macavity continued, "I had a hand in that. When the twins began to realize what - or rather, who - was driving my son insane, as I had hoped they would, I staged an attempt to posses the little runt. With the psychics; miniscule energy, Mistoffelees was led to believe he's forced me off completely. The entire tribe thinks all I want from them is my son. Wrong. Would you like to hear my plan for the imbeciles?"

Another set of nods.

"They all adore their little 'touched' tuxedo. And I've noticed that if I stray too near the Junkyard, my son has a minor panic attack; shaking, whimpers, the like. Sometimes, he has these without my nearing his home, just because he really has gone off his rocker, more so than I planned. But imagine what would happen to him if I came within three feet of his home, with intent to hrt his friends and family?"

A low chuckle permeated throughout the room. The casts obviously caught his drift and were eager to try. Macavity spoke again, "And all the cats will panic, as he'll be reduced to little more than a shivering and screaming lump of fur, then they'll try to do whatever they can to save him from whatever is scaring him. They'll be unprepared to fight off an attack, and there's no magician to help fight us off. It'll be in the bag."

The cats looked at each other, nodding and grinning. This would be their biggest job yet. It was quite something, and they were all sure to get bonuses if it went well. And, if what the scarlet tom said was true, it would.

"Questions?" Macavity prompted, not looking for feedback so much as wanting a foolproof plan. Liana looked up.

"Do you want continued surveillance on your son, sir?" She asked, raising her brow at his snort.

"Yes, of course," he affirmed, "But, please, don't assign that incompetent ninny again, whatever her name was. Too much of her own opinions and not enough obseverd about him. I want to know what his habits are, what his favourite colour is, by Cat's sake!"

Liana nodded, "I'll do it myself, then. It will be a piece of cake, sir. You'll know everything except what he's thinking when I'm through with him."

Macavity smiled evilly, "You're far better than any of your underlings anyway. That's why you're head of your department, after all." Liana was quite the spy. Small and dark-coloured, she was hard to see. Couple that with an amazing sense of smell, speed, and an incredibly high intelligence, it was obvious as to why she was called "the best spy the warehouse has ever seen".

After the meeting had adjourned, Liana left the warehouse with her usual stealthy slink. If Laura, her nearly brainless cousin, had managed to sneak into the Junkyard, it wouldn't be to hard for her. In fact, she could do far more than look in a window, like a lowly stalker would. She would find other ways, better ways to survey them. And they would never know she was there.

She slipped through a small hole in the fence after a patrol went by; a nearly white tom with black marking. That one must be Macavity's eldest, Alonzo. She then began to stroll casually along well-travelved paths; the community was so large no one would notice her.

Liana sniffed the air and followed the scent that was so similar to Macavity's; rich and full, with that heavy, cloying scent she recognized as magic. Mistoffelees' scent was obvious and easy to remember; there was a strong hint of mint about it, old books, a gently masculine odor that reminded her of strong spices, and then a sweet feminine scent that was so obviously a queen's mingling with it. His mate certainly _did _spend a lot of time with him if her scent wsa so ingrained into his own. They would be too easy to find.

The queen followed the scent all the way to a large den, hiding herself comfortable near the door. The den was made out of two wooden crates in different sizes; no family except for the two of them, but they entertained often by the looks of it. There was a proper door, though small and cat sized; the house had been built with magic. It would be harder than she's thought. But already, she had more information than the last spy she'd sent.

Two hours later, there was nothing left to record. She'd assumed that watching a crazy recluse would be more interesting than this.


End file.
